


Express Yourself

by TheLanceShow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), During Canon, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt Lance (Voltron), I would die for Lance, IN SPACE!, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Love heptagon, M/M, Mutual Pining, No one is attracted to anyone but Lance, Pining, Pining Allura (Voltron), Pining Hunk (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Pining Lotor, Pining Matt, Pining Pidge tbfh, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Poly but like only to lance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-04-13 11:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14111607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLanceShow/pseuds/TheLanceShow
Summary: Lance is a heart breaker by heart. It's not like he means to do it -- everyone knows that, all right? But they can't help that they're all in love with bright smiles and a too good heart made of platinum.And Lance, he's an oblivious man, really.A short story about how everyone in quite literally in love with Lance and he isn't at all aware.





	1. Hunk

**Author's Note:**

> UhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHH I'm alive
> 
> :)
> 
> I was diagnosed with cancer in the kidney so fuckin uhhhh that's why I haven't been updating much

**Hunk**

 

Lance is out of everyone's league -- ever. And it's not fair but it kind of is. They all know -- everyone in the castle, the Universe, that cosmic deity he rambles about -- Lance is too good for them.

Then -- then it makes sense for Hunk to be happy when Lance spends time with him. And maybe his heart thrums a bit too -- hard, it's damaging to his trachea to even look at him with pulsing beats.

They're not doing anything -- significant. Just short of cuddling, Hunk notes with a small sigh. Then -- no, that's not okay, he didn't mean -- Lance is his best friend, it's not like --

He doesn't -- like Lance in that way. That's crazy, impossible, but --

Lance is crazy and impossible and loving and caring and.

And too good.

He -- couldn't help it. He stumbled over softly murmured words of reassurance, tripped over a voice laced with affection, fell into the deep pit of agony that was loving Lance.

\-- Loving Lance without that feeling being returned.

It's frustrating but expected -- really, it is. Because -- again -- he's too good for them.

He can't --

"Hunk?" Lance says. Hunk jumps a bit, clearly startled. "Buddy?"

He looks to his left where Lance is laying his head on his shoulder. Simply -- happily -- too good --

"What's up?" Hunk -- his voice cracks, snap.

"You went all -- " Lance takes in a lung full of air and lets it out heavily.

"Really?" Hunk asks. "I didn't notice."

Lance hums then sits up. He brings his feet onto the -- terrible -- couch and crosses his legs. He faces Hunk with a soft smile.

That's another -- issue, problem, unbalanced equation -- that Hunk has yet to understand.

Lance's face around Hunk is almost always -- soft, gentle, unguarded. It eats him up inside, digests his entire God damn soul.

"What's up?" Lance asks. His eyes are -- stars, twinkling and flaring and burning Hunk up.

"I was just thinking about -- how good you are. You're too good for us. Any of us."

At that, Lance's grin dims -- dying stars -- and he shakes his head.

"You're too good for me," Lance says. He looks away -- Hunk can breathe again. "You guys deserve better. What were you really thinking about?"

"About how in love with you I am."

Lance scoffs and rolls his eyes. Bitter -- yet soft -- blue eyes connect with whiskey brown. He groans and throws his head back with a small laugh.

"You're dumb!" He exclaims, pushing Hunk's shoulder -- tenderly -- and staring into his eyes. "My best friend can't be in love with me."

He's right -- can't -- should be absurd -- but.

Lance is absurd and beautiful and -- too good.

"You got me there," Hunk says with a smile. "Guess I just love you -- bro."

"Hells yeah," Lance beams and those -- stars, there are more, softly baking Hunk in his own skin. "Love you too, broski."


	2. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But the expression that usually adorns Lance's face is negative. Maybe recently not as much -- neutral -- why does that hurt? -- but it's still a default.
> 
> Keith's automatic expression from Lance isn't what he wants it to be, but he'll take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's the fact that I have nothing else to do that I'm cranking these out so fast
> 
> Poor Keith.

**Keith**

 

Keith is -- frustrated. He doesn't think that quite sums up how angered he is, but hey. He doesn't really care. Because there are so many words -- contradicting, pulling at each other, let him _drown drown drown_ \-- that describe how he feels.

One of those words is fuck honestly.

Actually -- that's the only word he needs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

(That's -- a _lot_ of fucks.)

Is he -- being dramatic? Most likely. 

Keith isn't quite sure when it turned into liking him -- he was in _so much denial_ that he can't really pinpoint when it started -- maybe after he saved Lance from being handcuffed to a tree.

It was simple work -- cut through the laser and _boom_ \-- freedom. But Lance had been irritated the entire time. He and Keith had sat down afterwards, backs against the tree.

"I was jus' tryna _ShamWOW_ my way into that bitch's heart!" Lance had complained. He hadn't noticed the small laugh Keith gave. Lance jabbed half-heartedly at the air. "Impale her -- _lance_ her with this affection." Keith laughs a bit harder. "Let her boing her way to the stars. Fill up my buckaroo heart. Be the mayo to my dry as _fuck_ tuna sandwich! But _no_ \-- she's like spicy horseradish and sauerkraut on a _McFucking_ Toaster Strudel filled with grapefruit!"

And -- the last part got Keith to laugh enough that he _snorted_.

Okay, maybe he _can_ remember.

Big deal.

An after thought -- Keith loves Lance's smiles. They're bright -- Keith needs sunglasses -- pupils to _shrink_ \-- go _blind_ \--

Anyways.

But the expression that usually adorns Lance's face is _negative_. Maybe recently not as much -- neutral -- why does that _hurt?_ \-- but it's still a default.

It still gets his engine _revving_ , honestly.

Lance is -- too good.

Keith grunts as his chest is hit with a strong amount of force. It's blunt, focused on a single area -- still gets him to stumble back quite a bit.

He has to -- get his _shit_ together, they're sparring, but it's -- not his _fault_ \--

"Get it together, _Keith_ ," Lance sings. He has this -- smirk filled with pride and mirth. It gets Keith's heart pumping a little -- faster, gaining velocity and momentum, _slow down_ \-- "C'mon, let's go!"

"Got distracted," Keith mumbles. Lance shifts casually -- tossing his broadsword around in his hands -- a twisting trick before it lands safely in his right hand. "I'm trying to figure out how to correct your stance."

At that -- his smile drops and -- there's no _friction_ , Keith is free falling, _boom boom boom_ \-- is that his heart?

A small and graceful frown before -- Lance sighs, a short and irritated puff of air. " _Great_. What did I do wrong?"

Keith charges at him suddenly -- tries to use the pace of his heartbeat to go faster -- but Lance _easily parries_ the move by holding his sword diagonally and pushing -- _hard_.

It has Keith thinking as he stares at Lance's mouth -- the slightly irritated crease in his brow --

Too good.

There's a _wooshing_ sound -- Keith gasps and looks where it came from. Lance -- he doesn't have his sword because it's _impaled_ next to the wall by Keith's head. When did he -- back him up against the _wall_?

Wait, where is _Keith's_ sword?

"My stance isn't bad enough that you should be so distracted." Lance pulls the sword out with little effort -- muscle mass -- gained a lot -- _fuck_. Keith looks around Lance and spots something -- his sword is on the _floor_ \-- the other side of the room. "I think we're done here."

"When did you get my sword -- _what_ \-- " Keith stumbles over his words -- thoughts -- eyes from an abyss of agitation to his weapon.

"Are you -- okay?" Lance asks. It's -- the question is -- he's _worried_. Keith will take any expression Lance gives him -- anything but flat. "You're really -- out of it."

Keith rubs at his eyes with a sigh. It's -- _hard_ , okay? Because loving Lance Is like --

\-- waves crashing into him on a windy day -- he's in up to his chest -- there's salt water in his eyes -- knocked over -- trying to get out -- but as the water retreats back into the ocean it drags you with it -- resist and grab at the same -- futile, there's sand _everywhere_ \--

Keith feels something pressed into his hand -- his sword. He looks up at Lance -- blinks.

"Let's get you to the infirmary," Lance says. There's a light pout on his lips -- eyebrows in a taut and concerned line. Keith nods -- _slow_ , he can spend more time with Lance -- and follows him out of the room.

Too good at sword fighting so quickly.

Too good at being a friend.

Just --

Too good.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOO I get medical marijuana that's lit


	3. Pidge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Point is -- Pidge doesn't have Lance figured out. Sometimes he plays dumb despite the high score needed to get into the Garrison. It's -- odd and -- she wonders why he does that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owen Wilson voice: wow
> 
> *PIDGE IS 18 1/2 HERE*

**Pidge**

 

Building is not Pidge's -- forté. She fully knows -- understands this. She just can't wrapped her head around those sorts of -- things.

Circuitry, however, she -- she's pretty proud of that.

Except -- not all the time. And she thinks -- it's obvious, there's no way It's not -- it's just --

To concentrate on something -- cracking codes -- rewiring -- hashtag hacking -- is very difficult when Lance is around.

And at first -- at first Pidge thought it was because he's annoying. It -- was a possibility. Nothing wrong with that.

(Right? Maybe it's -- a little -- mean.)

But then it hit her like a -- it shocked her -- an incomplete series --

Skipped right over a crush and was shocked with a bolt of fucking -- love, it's love, she's in love with -- Lance -- why why _why?_

It's not fair -- she's selfish, she thinks, but it's not fair -- Lance is too good for her. There's no real doubt behind that.

It's in the playful way he -- handles her. That pleased sound he'll make when she -- cracks the code -- _Pidge, you're awesome!_

Maybe she feels -- bad, yeah, she does. When she'll make an off hand comment -- the line between being witty and being an asshole is slim. Lance'll pout and God -- her boy crazy phase hit when she was 18.

Yet -- only for Lance.

That pouty lip -- ripe and pink and full -- with blue eyes -- kind explosions that eat at her like violent acid and make her heart beat slow slow _slow_.

On multiple occasions did Pidge -- kind of -- maybe -- thought of --

No.

Inappropriate.

(Sucking him off.)

Point is -- Pidge doesn't have Lance figured out. Sometimes he plays dumb despite the high score needed to get into the Garrison. It's -- odd and -- she wonders why he does that.

God -- he's so bright.

So complicated.

So good.

Too good.

"So what you're -- Lance, look at me."

Lance makes a noncommitical sound -- looks up briefly -- before going back to picking at his cuticles. He just -- blatantly isn't paying attention.

"Hello?" she snaps -- it's an accident -- kind of. "Pay attention to this!"

Lance looks up and -- his brows are furrowed -- plush lips thin in his slight scowl.

"Not -- sure if you've noticed, but -- I'm not stupid," Lance says -- slowly, condescending. "I don't appreciate the way you're speaking to me."

"Then -- repeat what I just said."

"Press the flat button when Green takes off and the -- the pointy one when she's landing." Battery acid -- sparkling, beautiful, deadly -- eyes blink at her. Then his lips quirk into a -- fuck -- fond smile.

She hates it -- loves it -- it _burns_ through her --

"See -- I got it," Lance says. Then juts out that -- plump bottom lip. "Don't act like I'm dumb."

"I know you're not -- dumb." 

And Lance, he -- lifts a hand and runs it through her hair. His blunt nails scrape lightly against her scalp -- she shivers.

"Then stop acting like I am, you ass," he says, then beams -- so acidic, sizzling in her chest. Lance pokes her nose. "I love you -- Katie -- ya know?"

Pidge can feel her cheeks heat -- too much blood is rising to the surface of her skin -- too addictive to feel -- he's so addictive.

"Yeah," she mumbles -- startles when she feels those lips brush her forehead. "W-what are you -- "

"Do you love me?"

Pidge swallows deeply because -- of course -- this idiot --

"Yeah," she repeats. Lance looks down at her and yes -- she can see love in his eyes.

Not the right kind.

"I love you too. Now -- go take her for a new and improved spin. Metal vines sound -- awesome."

"You already said you love me."

Lance rolls his eyes and taps the bottom of her chin with the back of his hand -- a habit he picked up only for her. Pidge takes the hint and wraps her arms around his torso.

"You finally did it!" Lance exclaims -- he's laughing as he hugs her back. "Without me saying anything!'

"Shut up," Pidge says into his chest.

"Jeez, you twerp."

His voice -- it's so -- soft and loving and all in the wrong God damn _way_.

She doesn't want to be his -- sister.

Ugh.

But Pidge -- she'll take it.

The warmth, the smiles, his pride, his selflessness, his _everything_.

Because even though he's too good --

He still wastes his breath with her -- exposes his complex series of numbers and letters.

That's pretty cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty cool is -- an understatement. 
> 
> Because as she walks away -- she thinks of his hurt expression switching into a loving one.
> 
> The way he -- yells, "That design is so sexy!" as she shoots shiny silver vines at targets.
> 
> He doesn't need to put energy into cheering her on, yet --
> 
> Gravity isn't real is space but -- Pidge still fell flat on her face.  
> __
> 
> Just a little extra


	4. Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't make me stick jelly beans in your asshole, Shiro," Lance says. Shiro wipes the tears from his eyes with residual giggles. Lance is staring at him fondly -- and it's raining. 
> 
> He's soaked through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long??? Why
> 
> Also listen to Hobo Johnson if you like poetry

**Shiro**

 

Thunder. That's what Lance is -- he's thunder.

No -- that's not right. He's the entire sky. He's night and day, dusk and dawn. He's weather.

Good grief, he's everything.

Including too good.

It's in his moods -- his eyes -- his smile -- his personality -- his frowns --

\-- the way he moves himself so easily --

\-- with false confidence.

Shiro wishes he spent more time with Lance. Truly -- he does. But he's afraid of being drenched in lovely rain, being frozen in glittery snow, warming a bit too much in the sun.

And there's a crackle of lightning that will inevitably shoot Shiro out of the -- gorgeous sky that is Lance. The thunder following would be -- Lance falling out of love with Shiro.

If he even was in the first place.

When Lance strikes him down with electricity -- Shiro will accept it -- welcome it -- let it sizzle under his skin for eternity.

("You can't let it sizzle hot like that for so long immediately!" Lance yelped, hip bumping Shiro out of the way -- he stumbled to the side.

"What's the matter?" Shiro asked. A flush had already made its way up his neck.

"It'll harden on the outside," Lance admonished -- moved the pan to a colder burner, "but stay soft and cold on the inside."

"It's just food."

Lance gasped and held a hand to his chest. His smile was fluffy -- pure -- clouds and his eyes were a clear Autumn's day.

"It's a way of life, Shiro." Lance transferred the poorly cooked _yakum_ to a plate. "Imagine if you had a passionate lover -- " Lance makes a kissy face, " -- but you just didn't click."

Lance turned to Shiro -- his grin the sun. "That's a philosophy to live by. Don't hold grudges -- don't let people step on you.

"When it comes to love, let it warm up on the inside first on low heat," Lance stated and his cheeks reddened. "Then run _hot_ 'n' -- "

Shiro cut him off with an embarrassed groan -- rolled his neck. "I get it -- please, stop talking."

Lance pouted -- petulant -- and muttered, "Never giving your ungrateful ass dope advice again."

And Shiro -- couldn't help but smile, affectionately patting Lance's shoulder.

"I'll take it to heart.")

Lance is a tornado when he bursts into the common area. A ruckus that one would want to -- watch -- hide from -- neither -- all of the above.

His eyes are storms at night -- alight and swimming in dark blue. Intense and breathtaking. Lance's attention lands on Shiro and he smiles.

A whip of energy struck down into the expecting Earth yet just as -- effective.

"Shiro!" he says with such an excited tone that Shiro returns the greeting. It's too good and too happy -- nowhere near as tainted as the rest of them.

"Lance!" says Shiro -- with the same energy. Lance's eyes crackle.

"I have a -- proposition," Lance says -- it's casual if he ignores the bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Real quick, it'll be."

"Okay, Yoda. Lay it on me."

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. Instead, he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and pulls out --

\-- two handfuls of jellybeans.

It's things like these -- quirks that Lance has -- his exquisite attention to detail -- that Shiro loves so damn much.

"They be licorice," Lance says. "Fuckin' uhh, to bribe you with."

Shiro raises his eyebrows and cups his hands -- thrusts them towards Lance.

He begins to walk forward -- slowly -- careful.

Then he trips.

His hands shoot out to the sides and they spill from his hands with a loud clatter as he wheels his arms clockwise. It's no use as he falls straight onto his face.

Lance lays on the floor in his starfish position for a long while -- Shiro's not sure how he can breathe with his face smushed into the floor. He watched it with a hand to his mouth the entire time.

"Are you -- okay?" he asks tentatively.

Lance gives a slow thumbs up with both hands. Then -- from his back pocket, he pulls out a bag full of licorice jelly beans.

"Ah haf mo'," Lance says, voice muffled. "Acciden's 'appen." Lance peels his face from the floor and beams at Shiro. His nose is red -- eyes watery -- cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Finally, Shiro bursts out in a full body laugh. Lance huffs and jumps up as quickly as he fell -- a wind stirring up Spring pollen.

"Jee whiz," Lance says -- Shiro snorts with more laughter. "I got you jelly beans and this is how you repay me? You whore."

"Oh my God," Shiro wheezes, clutching his stomach. The tears in his eyes make it near impossible to see. " _Lance_."

The bag smacks him in the face -- it stings from the force.

"Don't make me stick jelly beans in your asshole, Shiro," Lance says. Shiro wipes the tears from his eyes with residual giggles. Lance is staring at him fondly -- and it's raining. 

He's soaked through.

Because Lance -- he's too _good_.

"May I ask now?"

"Proceed," Shiro says with a snicker as he opens the bag.

"Don't eat them yet!" Lance protests. "Only if you say yes."

"Well, ask!"

"Okay. Okay, so -- Coran says I need to find an emotional song to perform for the next coalition act."

"Mm-hm."

"I decided to do Creve Croeur 1. I jus' wanna see if I can do it with enough -- emotion. You can't eat those until you watch and give feedback; I'll only do a portion."

Shiro watches as Lance shakes slightly -- he's nervous -- it's cute.

How could he say 'no'?

"I'm waiting."

Lance takes a deep breath. Then -- it's storm clouds with humid air and the dreadful feeling of ice cold rain. Lance face does something terrible -- he looks absolutely furious and heartbroken at the same time.

"He's such a bummy, crusty, cruddy father _fucking_ every girl he takes to coffee!" Lance recites -- voice cracking on the last syllable of _coffee_. His voice is raw in emotion. Shiro has never heard the song -- probably never will -- but _damn_ does it sound disheartening.

He's too good at acting.

"He lied to Mom in holy matrimony hold me _closely!_ I don't think you should _love me!"_ Tears spring into Lance's eyes -- roll down his cheeks -- and his voice is broken -- he shoves the palms of his hands over his eyes, hard. "I always feel so _lonely_ knowing that nothing forever lasts forever -- !"

"Sorry, Frank," his voice wavers dangerously -- he removes his hands, shaking, "You're _much too late!"_ Lance quiets. "Much too late. Sorry, Frank, you're much too late, much too -- late..."

Lance wipes his eyes and grins brightly. Shiro just blinks at him, eyes wide.

"So? How was it?"

"Is that even a question?" Shiro asks slowly. "That was -- incredible."

"Nice!" Lance exclaims and gives the OK sign with his left hand -- it's daylight once more. "Go ham on that candy."

"Where'd you even find them?" Shiro asks. He brings one up to his mouth.

"Space mall -- there were a bunch of Earth candies there," Lance says. Shiro pops it in his mouth and bites down.

Then spits it out immediately.

A gurgling sound makes its way out of his mouth. Lance's lips makes an O.

"Those are the skunk flavored ones, I'm guessing..." Lance mutters. Shiro looks at him in disbelief. "Ha-ha, whoops."

"What -- _why did you even_ \-- "

"Keith's favorite flavor is licorice, too!" Lance justifies -- he waves his arms defensively. "I was gonna prank that dusty mullet man."

"One, don't call him that -- two, that would've been funny if _I_ didn't have to taste it."

Lance purses his lips against a smile. "I'll be right back and find you the right ones."

There's bubbling laughter in his voice -- frost gathering on Shiro's eyelashes -- as he shoots finger guns at Shiro. He turns and skips away without a care in the world.

He's too good, Shiro thinks.

For any of them.

Especially him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw Shiro bby you deserve the world
> 
> Comment, like, subscribe, tweet me at DavidDobrik--


	5. Lotor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gash was large and ran from what looked like his last rib to his pelvis. It seemed deep as well -- the fact that Lance even -- thought to keep fighting was ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA REMEMBER THIS? LOTOR'S TURN

Lotor did his research of Earth, and of course -- Altea.

There were some things -- plants, animals -- that Earth didn't have that Altea did. And -- vice versa, obviously.

One thing that Altea never -- possessed, had the pleasure of -- having -- _yes_ \-- he wants it -- _him_ \--

\-- is Lance McClain.

It wasn't -- instant, heavens no. The ~~Red~~ ~~Blue~~ Paladin was incredibly hostile towards Lotor. Really -- the nerve. However, that didn't make him unattractive.

It was after a certain -- incident that triggered the profound attraction towards Lance himself.

The want.

The need.

Lance had later deemed it -- an entire Galra tyrant move, right there.

Lotor supposes it's true.

It had been -- what the Earthens had called -- six months after he and Voltron bonded. They were on the middle of a heated battle -- one they were losing. Hell, even though Lotor had just joined them, he had an obligation to fill.

If any of the Paladins were in trouble, he would go out of his -- very important -- way and save them.

Lance happened to be the one in danger.

A fatal flaw of Lance's -- he's too good of a soul. It was almost sickening, really. As if sticky candies -- caramel, Lance had called it -- were in his teeth, covering his fangs whenever Lance was near.

"Shit!" Lance had screamed. His voice was laced with pain -- oddly rough. 

"Lotor!" Shiro shouted through the communicators. "Get to Lance, _now!_ "

Lotor groaned low in his throat -- that damn fool -- what did he do _now_ \--

He shot the small fighter pod apprehending him before cloaking his modified ship. Lotor headed down to the planet where Lance was stationed -- of course he'd cause a mess what with being the only one having to deal with all of the prisoners.

Lance was standing in front of a G'narian citizen -- Bayard in its throwing knives form. They were made of pure energy -- they cut through enemies as if they were butter and returned to Lance immediately.

G'narians were the same race as Ezor -- Lotor had to admit, he was mildly bitter.

Lance was pressing his hand to his side as he threw three knives at the last Galra attacking them. There was a pile of the creatures surrounding him and the citizen -- rather impressive.

His face was set in determination and fierce lines -- he also looked as if he was in pain.

Once the Galra dropped, however, Lance didn't change his expression. He immediately turned to the alien he was protecting -- Lotor noticed blood seeping from in between Lance's fingers as he pressed down even harder.

As Lotor approached, he could hear the tail portion of the conversation.

" -- worry about me. Are you okay?"

The G'narian nodded but their hands hovered over Lance. He brushed them off politely and smiled.

"I'm fine," Lance insisted.

Too good of a person -- it's repulsive.

"No, you're not."

Lance spun on his heel and glared at Lotor. "Yes," he stressed, "I am."

"Then remove your hand," Lotor said lowly, striding over to them. When Lance's expression faltered for a fraction of a tick, Lotor raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"I don't -- want to. You're not my -- my leader or father or mother or -- " before Lance could finish, Lotor grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand away from the wound. Lance let out a string of profanities.

It was worse than Lotor had thought. How inconvenient.

Lotor sighed heavily and gave Lance an unimpressed look. Lance managed to do it even better -- his mouth flattened and neat eyebrows in a straight line -- eyelids lowered halfway.

The gash was large and ran from what looked like his last rib to his pelvis. It seemed deep as well -- the fact that Lance even -- thought to keep fighting was ridiculous.

"You applying pressure barely did anything," Lotor said. Lance smiled -- fake and bright.

"Ha! Well, shucks -- darn it. Here I thought -- hm! Tough, considering I have to cover ground -- " Lance cut himself off and pressed his hand to his side again.

"I need to bring you to the castle." Lotor frowned at him momentarily. "Why are you so reluctant?"

"A -- planet full of people versus just _me?_ The planet is more important."

"Lance, you are a _Paladin_ of _Voltron_ ," Lotor pointed out -- rolled his eyes. "You are very important."

"An entire planet."

Lotor grabbed Lance's arm and began to drag him away. "Let's go."

"What the heck, dude?!" Lance squeaked before his tone hardened. "Let me go."

"Victory or death, Lance. You were victorious. Now you will bow to my will."

And -- almost immediately, the Black Lion landed in front of them. Shiro stormed out -- appearing furious. Lance groaned and snatched his arm from Lotor.

"It's how he was brought up -- " Lance began. Shiro sent him a stern look. "It's not his fault! Dude, come _on_ \-- sympathy."

Lotor looked to Lance, all -- brilliantly cut sapphire eyes and granite expression.

"No," Shiro said. "That was -- suspicious as Hell. He's going back to the room."

Now, here he is, in the prison cell they first stored him in. He watches the doors -- they open near silently. Lance saunters in, expression bland.

What made Lotor want -- _need_ \-- him is the way Lance treats him. Not delicately -- with the regard of someone that's not afraid of even Zarkon. More of a reluctant friendliness that turned genuine.

Lotor has been in the cell for two weeks so far. He didn't -- realize he actually treasured Lance until a small incident on the seventh day.

Lance had looked at him so -- fondly. He had said, in a jokingly flirty manner, "Make like a good book and open wide."

It had made Lotor blush violet. Lance began to cackle and snort before wheezing out, "Oh my God -- you're adorable!"

And -- it made Lotor feel really good. His nearly dead heart twisted in his ribcage -- from gray to vibrant purple.

When Lance stops in front of his cell, he runs his eyes up and down Lance's figure shirtless. He's holding a tray -- meat with bread and greens -- chartreuse long things the size of Lance's fingers.

Lance smiles brightly -- polished milky quartz for teeth and lazurite eyes sparkling.

"Hunk made burgers and fries," Lance says. He presses a button and a small opening appears at the bottom of the cell -- Lance pushes the tray through and it closes. "Yours is cooked rare 'cause I know you like the blood. Tastes just like the ones from Earth."

Lotor picks it up curiously before sitting in front of the glass that separates him and Lance. Lance grins and taps on the glass.

He's too good at being so disturbingly nice.

"How's it goin', fishy?" Lance drawls before sitting on a pillow on the floor. "Sorry, forgot tapping on the glass isn't good for you."

Lotor disregards the comment, opting for grabbing the -- burger? Lance huffs before squishing his face against the glass. It startles Lotor into giving a chuckle.

"You gotta hold it like this," he says after he leans back. He demonstrates and smiles. "Make sure your pinkies hold up the end of it so it doesn't droop."

Lotor does so, concentrating on not making a mess of himself.

He looks up to see gentle crystalline eyes peering at him.

"Hey, it's supposed to be messy. You're due for a shower soon anyway," Lance informs. He crosses his arms and tilts his head. Lotor feels himself flush but hides it by taking a large bite.

"Ew," he says around his mouthful of food. Lance puts a hand to his chest, face aghast. It's oddly -- adorable. "Wha?"

Lance snorts -- "The usually graceful Lotor speaks with his mouth full." The violet flush spreads to the rest of his face. "I can't believe you don't like burgers. I'm disgusted, I am appalled, you've insulted my entire family -- "

"Drama queen," Lotor says. He chews swallows the food reluctantly -- flashes Lance a toothy smile, fangs and all.

The smile has -- an effect. Lance's cheeks and the tips of his ears become tinted with maroon. Lance stares at his mouth, lapis lazuli crystals partially covered by lowered eyelids. Then his eyes snap up to meet Lotor's -- the red intensifies -- before he looks away with a cough.

"Do you want something to drink?" Lance asks -- it's rough and low -- Lance doesn't seem to expect the tone, for his eyes bug. His voice goes into a cute falsetto. "Ha, oh my goodness! Water? You want Lotor? Wait -- no, you want water? Yes? Yeah, okay, be right back!"

Through his rambling, Lance had his eyes to the side on the floor. Then he -- stares at Lotor for a moment. Lotor smiles again, this time with a closed mouth.

"Water -- would be much appreciated," Lotor assures him. "I'm very thankful that you're too good -- for anyone on this ship."

Lance blinks at him before laughing awkwardly. Lotor didn't mean for the compliment to slip out, but doesn't regret it -- Lance's entire face flushes, eyes shining as he springs up from his perch on the floor.

"B-be right b-back," Lance stutters before sprinting from the room. 

Once he leaves, Lotor lets a soft smile grace his face. He's too fond of this -- human.

He can't betray the team.

Not when that gem -- flawless, too good of a diamond for Lotor -- is still here.

No -- never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance takes his sweet time with getting the water. He's not quite sure where the Hell his reaction came from. It's not like -- Lance doesn't like Lotor like that, okay?
> 
> He shakes his head to himself, distracted enough to not notice Shiro's footsteps following him.
> 
> He doesn't see the way Shiro glances from him to the door and back -- nor when Shiro decides to stalk into the holding room, irritated and concerned.


	6. Allura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something in Lance's expression snaps as his mouth jerks into a violent and brief frown. He looks over Allura's shoulder and doesn't bother to hide the flash of annoyance in his eyes. She stares at him, mouth slowly parting. 
> 
> That's kind of — oh.
> 
> That’s just too good, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, is this an update?
> 
> Yes, yes it is.

This — was not supposed to happen. Allura did not wish to fall into Lance's idiotic schemes. Does not want to buy the charming smiles and soft encouragement that slips from Lance's mouth like dainty petals. Wouldn't dare wish for an opposed opinion for an idea to introduce new ones.

And yet — she fell, bought all she could, wished upon every star.

For a Cuban boy with differing eye color flowers depending on his mood — the lighting. 

On neutral days, they may be the color of ceratostigmas or the deep blue of delphiniums — bright clematis and blue star flowers for happy days — bell flowers and columbine on negatives.

The easy way Lance may perk up or droop his shoulders — it excites her.

The delicacy of the petals of his eyes when he's happy — she swoons — it's breathtaking.

The brittle texture of dried feelings in sharp words and focused eyes — it feels dangerous.

(She — likes it.)

He's angry today — she doesn't know why. His shoulders are as tense as bark and eyes the crystalline water of Hawthornes.

"Hello," Allura says, attempting to stay pleasant. Lance either ignores her as he strides past of really didn't hear her. "Lance?"

He continues to walk away.

"Lance!"

He skids to a stop and turns. He's schooled his face into neutrality yet — his jaw is clenched and his cheeks are an angry cardinal.

Lance doesn't walk towards her — doesn't move.

"Yes, Princess?" he says. "Did you need something?"

Allura furrows her brows with a sigh. She could either make him walk back to her, go over to him, or leave him be.

"Well, come here," she says, gesturing him forward with her hand. "It's not polite to have a conversation so separately."

Something in Lance's expression snaps as his mouth jerks into a violent and brief frown. He looks over Allura's shoulder and doesn't bother to hide the flash of annoyance in his eyes. She stares at him, mouth slowly parting. 

That's kind of — oh.

That’s just too good, isn’t it?

"What's up, Princess?" Lance says, gaze travelling back to her as he draws near — there's barely a foot in between them, now. She feels her marks light up a bit in embarrassment. "Everything okay?"

"What has got you in such a disarray?" Allura intends to ask. However, it comes out sharp. Lance's upper lip curls a bit — he really is mad.

At what?

"Nothing, _Allura_  — " oh, uh, she's heating up, " — besides, if anything, you should ask Shiro."

Lance grins but — it's cold frost on fully bloomed, white roses.

"Well, I'm asking you."

That makes Lance work his jaw and run a hand through his thick curls of hair. He scratches idly at the light stubble on his chin.

"Just — he needs to relearn boundaries, apparently." The faint sound of a door opening, then loud and frantic footsteps. Lance flicks his gaze to the side and scowls.

Dusky primrose pink petals turn downward and bluebells dry up.

"Lance!" Allura hears. She turns slightly so she may see both of them. Shiro looks — panicked. "I'm really sorry, I didn't — "

"Whatever," Lance hisses before turning on his heel — he manages to stalk to the end of the hallway before Shiro chases after him. The far away sound of — "Leave me alone, Shiro!"

Lance goes into a sprint and turns the corner — Shiro follows.

Hm.

 

Lance is positively vibrant three days later. In bloom, if you will.

It’s too good of a sight, if she’s being truthful.

"Yo, I'm so glad that bitch is gone!" he yelps, banging a palm on the table. Rain drops — blue dandelions. "Like, honestly, he was gettin' to me — not gonna lie."

Everyone in the room tenses.

”Oh — really?” Matt manages to grind out.

Lance nods slowly, looking down at the _curry_ that Hunk had dished out — Allura wasn’t really a fan of it. It was far too spicy for her, but she grins and bears it — it’s Lance’s favorite dish. He plays with it, the grain _soaked_ in the sauce and meat.

”Yeah — but like, not the way you’re probably thinkin’,” Lance explains. He gathers some food onto his spork. “It’s like — I’m a good actor sometimes. I was being genuinely nice to him eventually — which you know — unfortunate.” Lance shrugs and mumbles something under his breath.

”What was that?” Shiro nearly barks — Lance’s eyes snap to him — reminds Allura of dried stems.

”I said — “ Lance says with brittle daisies, “ — _‘and he was attractive.’_ Happy, Shiro? Hey, by the way, please try to stay out of my personal life next time.”

Because of the respectful tone Lance slips into — Allura assumes — Shiro says a quiet, “I apologize for that.

”It’s okay.” Lance looks to Allura, face significantly less irritated. “Is it — a sore subject for you, Princess? I know you were — you know.”

”It’s fine,” Allura sighs. She lets her shoulders slump a bit. “I should have known he couldn’t be trusted — it is on me.”

 “Yeah,” Pidge agrees. Lance shoots her a disbelieving look. “What? Even _we_ were fucking around with the droids.”

Lance rolls his eyes, spooning his food into his mouth — Shiro stares at him, squinting.

”Why do you care?” Shiro asks. “We wouldn’t have trusted him in the first place hadn’t it been for Allura.”

She shrinks a bit in her seat.

”Hey, whoa, whoa!” Lance says once he finishes swallowing — he winces — most likely didn’t chew enough. However, his eyes are challenging hydrangeas. “We definitely could have put up more of a fight and don’t you dare deny that.”

He’s too good to her.

 _For_ her.

Keith huffs a sharp breath, “He’s not wrong.”

Matt reluctantly nods before giving a soft glare to Shiro — the leader frowns.

”Okay, fine.” Shiro flips his hair out of his eyes a bit. Lance relaxes back into soft soil.

”All right, then.” Lance blinks slowly and continues to stir the curry — he prefers it cold, Allura had noticed. “Anyways, what’re we gonna do with Romelle?”

”Why do you ask?” Allura asks quickly — Lance gives her an odd look — confusing — curious — she can’t _read it_ —

“It’s just — I wanna know. Are we gonna...” Lance trails off, eyes flickering to everyone around the table. “I’m not sure how she’ll be here? I don’t know her — _attitude_ towards anything yet. She kinda, low-key, feels like another Keith.”

”Jeez, _thanks_ ,” Keith murmurs around a mouthful of food. “Lovely statement.”

”She’s just strong-willed and pondering,” Allura says in defense — she _doesn’t_ like the dead-eyed stare Lance gives her — she has to defend her race. “Do you have something to object to, _Lance?”_

”Broody and stubborn,” Lance casually corrects, “but said in a friendly manner, no?” Lance shrugs and lets his spork fall into the bowl. “Keith, yeah?”

”Her family died!” Allura bursts out — looks at Lance incredulously. “I thought you would have been on _my_ side!”

A glass aster in plain view — scowl frosty and she shivers — she is not a fan of it. “What, because I used to like you?”

That answered a lingering question in her mind.

It’s — fine, really!

He’s too good for her anyway.

Allura — she likes many things about Lance. It’s not just his looks, either.

(Though she could very well go on a tangent about that.)

His passion he puts into everything he does is worthy of taking her breath away. How patient he can be with people is stunning. The way he eases tension in a room is admirable — relaxing, despite the annoyance they may show him. He’s fun to be around, cracking jokes as well as reassuring the team they’re doing a great job.

He’s incredibly intelligent — he had learned Altean faster than even Pidge. He even learned their math system in an inexplainable amount of time.

Stellar quick thinking as well — an awesome stratigizer — an incredible shot.

He was just — too _good_.

”Besides, what side?” Lance asks, leaning forward and bracing his hands on the table. His eyes narrow then widen like balloon flowers. “Allura, I didn’t say you had to kick the girl out! Just — what is her _position_ here?”

”I don’t know, Lance! She could — join the team — we could make her a Lion!”

”Oh, please,” Lance says, rubbing at his temple — he gives Allura a wilted look. “What, is Voltron going to wear shoes? I think not.”

“You are being very condescending.”

it’s silent for a moment as the rest of the team and a rebel fighter look between Lance and Allura — Matt gives a low whistle.

”I’m not trying to be mean, princess,” Lance protests. “It’s just not possible. There’s a reason there are only five Lions. I apologize for asking so soon after she arrived. But — “ he holds up his hands in a defensive manner, “ — an option is to send her back to Altea.”

”Excuse you!” Allura spits, standing. “How _dare_ — “

”Who is going to tell them, huh?” Lance points out — his body deflates . “You have to come with us to Earth. She can help govern them with what you can teach her.”

Quick thinking — really good thinking.

Allura has always been an emotional thinker, though.

She briskly walks away after seeing pretty pink petals go dry. As she strides away in a childish fit, she can hear arguing. Lance’s voice shouts the loudest —

“Let her leave, dammit! She’s obviously not very happy with me — if you knew Allura at all, you’d know she _needs_ to be fucking _alone_ right now! There are circumstances!”

He picked up on her behavior.

The squabble — it doesn’t change the love she has for the garden of a young man that _is_ Lance McClain.

A garden too good for her terrible, muddy water — weak fertilizer — horribly crafted pots — 

She’s confident in herself, but —

Not when it comes to flowers that bloom whenever they please.

Juniberry boys — they weren’t much work, not worth it.

But he’s — he is a blooming sensation of feelings and blues and shades of pink and white and —

Such a _good_ , _beautiful_ garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was legit my least favorite chapter and I’m sure you know why.
> 
> Comment, pleeeeeease?
> 
> (Also, like, don’t complain about something that’s in the tags? Like,, ever???? You chose to read it???????? It’s there for a reason, you know? I don’t mean it in a mean way, just a little annoyed. AnywAYS)

**Author's Note:**

> Y I K E


End file.
